James Colt: Demon Hunter (Well sort of)
by HeelJesus
Summary: James Colt is a 20-something Cardiffian with an interesting, occasional pass-time. He kills monsters.


**The Gremlins' Champion**

Dear diary, only joking. My name is James Colt, my friends call me Jimmy and some tossers that I don't like very much have been known to call me Jimbo. I'm essentially a normal bloke; I live in a small flat in Cardiff, I like the TV and a drink and, oh yeah, sometimes I kill monsters.

I wouldn't say I'm a demon hunter or vampire slayer or anything like that. That would suggest I had some sort of mission. I just happen to know a thing or two about the paranormal, so if something strange happens to me or friend and I can figure out how to deal with it I will. Now that's out of the way, I can tell you something strange.

It was the early hours of Tuesday morning; I'd fallen asleep watching Monday Night Raw. I was dreaming some inane dream that I only remembered due to the out of place entrance music being piped into my unconscious mind. I was awakened by the sound of mischievous laughter. Suddenly paranoid, I looked around the room for signs of an intruder. Finding nothing I muttered to myself "Cool, I must've woken up just before a nightma..." The TV began to emit a loud screeching sound as the screen flashed violently. I got up and jumped behind my armchair fearing, in my groggy state, that the TV would explode. It didn't, instead it just seemed to stop. Music started to come from everywhere at once. "Well that can't be good." I said aloud. I peeked over the top of the chair to see an empty space where my TV used to be and the unmistakable figure of Mark Henry crashing his way out through the front door. "Oh for..."

"Funny," said Ziggy "Maybe for you," I replied "but I'm down a TV and a door not to mention the big, bad wrestler monster that I've got to take down." "that's what I mean, the fact it was in your TV suggests a gremlin, but I've never heard of one shape shifting on its own before." "So what the hell am I dealing with?" I asked. "Most likely just a gremlin," Ziggy said calmly "I think we can put its appearance down to glamour." "Ok, shouldn't be too much of a problem, catch you later mate." I said as I hung up my mobile. Nice guy, Ziggy. He owns a pub called the Zombie and Shotgun where weird, nerdy, supernaturally aware people like myself like to hang out. The dude's forgotten more about demonology, mythology and folklore than I'll ever know.

Once I'd finished hanging my new front door and setting up my new TV, hope this beastie's got some gold or something, I went into my bedroom to tool up. I put iron rings on the first two fingers of each hand, grabbed an iron knife and changed into a T shirt that I didn't mind getting magic, or blood, on. Gremlins don't find iron as radiantly abhorrent as most of the fair folk do but it'll still kill one if you stick them with it in the right place. "Right then," I said to myself "time for some detective work."

It was 11:00pm when I left my flat. I stepped out into the crisp night air and began rolling a cigarette as I walked towards town. All I know so far is that the target seems to like televisions, so I thought, for a start I should look around all the electrical shops for signs of magic use or mischief. As it turned out, I was looking in the right places but not quite for the right things. It must have been around midnight when I decided to try John Lewis.

When I got there, two of the large glass doors had been completely shattered and there was a trail of muddy boot prints, torn clothing, broken shelving and other assorted destruction leading to the escalator. "Gremlins are supposed to be handy with even the most sophisticated technology," I thought to myself "So why can't this one figure out how to operate a bloody door without trashing it?". I looked around for civilians, no one. I took the knife out of my coat pocket and walked inside. As I climbed up the motionless escalator I noticed a sweet, flowery smell intensifying with every step. That was fair magic alright.

The top floor of the department store was almost totally dark. I could still see, but I might have to lure the target out into the street if it dropped or changed its glamour. As I crept between the displays I heard the sound of a steel saucepan being struck three times with a wooden spoon. It made itself a ring bell, seems like something I'd do. I turned towards the sound just in time to be hit with a clothesline so forceful that my body folded around my attacker's arm like a sheet of newspaper being blown against a signpost. "Glamour my arse." I coughed as I tried to remember how to stand up. When I got to my feet I saw the gremlin charging at me again. I dodged to the side and managed to nick him with my knife as he passed me. This just seemed to make my foe angry. The way my day's been going, if I kept on like this I'd be dead in a matter of minutes; I needed to get clever.

I moved towards the glass, chest high wall opposite the escalator with a hurried stagger. "Sexual chocolate!" I shouted and got ready to move quickly. My opponent charged again, I dodged the attack causing him to crash through the wall and then to the lower floor. It could've been the smell of victory or the adrenaline, but the pain in my chest felt hardly noticeable now. I ran down the escalator jumping the last four steps. "Well that was thick." I thought as the gremlin caught me with his huge, black arms. He steadied my body on his shoulders. "Bugger." I croaked realising what was next. I'm hardly a master tactician, but as my enemy lowered me to his chest I had a stroke of genius, that or dumb luck. I swiftly stabbed the gremlin in his stomach with my small iron blade. He dropped me on the floor and staggered backwards roaring in pain. This was my only chance. I clambered to my feet and rushed at the gremlin stabbing him straight through the heart. As I withdrew my blade a blinding light poured from the fatal wound. When I could see again the gremlin was gone. I left the store quickly, making sure I wasn't seen. Don't want somebody trying to blame this mess on me.

The next day, I sat at the bar in the Zombie and Shotgun. I had a few cracked ribs which Ziggy had helped me bandage up. "So it actually transformed?" asked Ziggy as he poured me a whisky. "Apparently." I said rubbing my chest. "Weird, maybe it was some sort of crossbreed." "I don't know," I said "and I hope I don't have to find out."

The End

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End file.
